


J.D's Not A Cupid

by Queen48



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Duke is Also a Repressed Nerd, F/F, Heather Chandler is a Huge Lesbian, J.D is a Repressed Nerd, McNamara is a Precious Bean, One-Sided Kurt and Ram, Veronica is a Bi Disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen48/pseuds/Queen48
Summary: Jason Dean is a strange boy, he knows that much. After all, normal people are not wrestling the voices in their head or going to the phycologist because they can't cope with their mother's suicide and their dad's evermoving job.So yes, J.D is not average, but never in a million years could've he guessed that it would be his brain the savior of the students of Westerburg High (ok, maybe he could see that actually). Regardless, he is quite proud of his current plan, so much so he might tell his phycologist about it!On second thought, no, telling a functioning adult that your best plan to bring a bully down is to get her a partner (especially when said person is also a girl) might not be the ideal course of action.ORThe one where J.D is not so fucked up, so instead of murder he decides to get Heather Chandler and Veronica Sawyer together, since happy people are not jerks (he would know).BUT HE IS NOT A CUPID! This is just strategy.





	1. We're here, and that's queer.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I was obsessed with Heathers and this happened. Hope you enjoy it!

Jason Dean was used to this, really, but it didn’t mean he hated it any less. Moving was always such a bothersome task for the boy, mostly because of the red tape involved (that being finding a new phycologist and listening to his dad’s rant about friendship and mental health), it’s not like he owned anything important aside from his fake gun and trench coat after all.

Once his (few) belongings were stashed safely inside the moving truck, he moved to his dad’s car, and tried to catch on the sleep he didn’t have the night before, too busy wrestling his own mind trying to get it to just shut up for five minutes… Didn’t work, obviously. Fortunately, the gentle rocking of the car was enough to subdue an already tired brain, and the boy slept the whole way to whatever city was the pick of the month.

He woke up to the voice of his father, talking sternly on the phone, “GOD JACK, I thought you said this would be an easy job! You can’t just pull a natural gas leaking out of your ass and expect me to just be ‘calm for once’! This will cost me time AND money! Fine, Fine, just deal with it.”

“So… Either unpack or deal with dad? Everybody take five, I’ll do neither,” said J.D already googling the closest 7-Eleven. 

In no time the convenience store was already within sight, and thank God for that. It was clearly small, deserted and otherwise unimpressive, in other words, perfect. The place screamed of corporate greed and neglect, which Jason didn’t appreciate as much, but home is home. He slowly made his way through the isles, while mentally trying to memorize their pattern of stocking (it was his little game, find the differences between stores - side note, who puts the cookies next to the slushies!? He’ll have to fix this latter). Naturally, the boy fixes himself a slush while observing the people around, or lack of thereof, the only living creatures on that place were him, the cashier and a very, very red and irritated girl who’s whining something about corn nuts and stupid people… ’Oh well, bitches will be bitches,’ he thinks, already knowing there’s a big chance this will be the most bearable interaction he’ll have with dynamite girl.

Once he's paid for his frozen medicine, he takes a seat on the floor outside, not really paying attention to his surrounds as he eagerly gulps down the slush, waiting for his mind to numb with the pain of the freeze. His phycologist says it’s a coping mechanism and that they should work on quitting the habit by overcoming his problems… Dad only cares that he’s off drugs. Speaking of the devil, Jason can only bet how many missed calls he probably has (maybe one, who is he kidding?), but lack of parenthood or not, better get to the house now while the old man is busy screaming on the phone than to be screamed at for not unpacking later - what a bother.

The walk back was uneventful, - which is to be expected in a place like fucking Sherwood - and he used that time to reflect upon the place he was in. The townsfolk clearly made sure to uphold the town’s slogan (‘A place like no other’, how original), seeing as the whole place looked like something designed by someone on LSD; the commercial street he was walking by right now was a perfect ripoff of Hill Valley in 2015 (minus the flying cars and well, time travelers), it was full of colorful shops and big outdoors, the space seemed like a marketing war zone where each business was trying to sound special - which is absolutely unnecessary considering none of them had the same products, but then again, LDS does that to you. The residential parts of the town were, however, remarkably dull in comparison, all the same and side by side, only growing in size as you went from the poorer to the richest neighborhoods, which for JD was a statement, ‘we townsfolk of Sherwood, Ohio like to pretend we are special when in reality all of us are stuck in our own old way,’ he chuckled, clearly dealing with people in this town was a fucking walk in the park - if that park was in Hell.

Finally arriving at his temporary home (another semi-mansion - his dad did love to overcompensate, after all), the boy started to take his few belongings to whichever room was the most distant from the main suite, commonly known as his father’s chambers. He ended up choosing one of the staff’s rooms, since those were smaller and the boy hated open spaces (it’s harder to keep track of every detail around), with a little of effort he managed to drag his bed to the corner of the room, and from there all he needed to do was organize his trench coat collection (the rest would be taken care of by the staff anyway).

With everything organized, J.D decided to walk around the place and see if he could find something interesting to do. This led him to the kitchen, where a small part of the staff was working on cooking dinner, and he watched with dying interest how the workers seemed to move around effortlessly. The chef was clearly in charge of most of the labor, moving quickly from one side of the decently sized kitchen to the other, grabbing ingredients and preparing two sets of food (he can only assume the most simplistic yet larger in size meal is for the staff themselves, while the most sophisticated meal - lasagna, how incredibly dull - was for him and his father). 

Lost in thought, Jason barely noticed as the head of staff approached him from behind, speaking to him in a high pitched, sarcastic, voice.

“If you’re so keen on being here, I’m sure I can find you a job to do,” she nodded appreciatively, “indeed, since Jordan left we’ve been missing a gardener. You wouldn’t happen to have the skills, would you?”

Raising an eyebrow, J.D shook his head. “Lady, do I look the type to sit around in the dirt chopping flowers and watering trees?”

“You’d be surprised,” remarked the senior, unimpressed by the boy’s remark. “I’m Maria Flores, and my job is making sure this place doesn’t go up in flames. This means keeping you out of trouble, at least while you’re here.”

“Yeah, good luck with that one. You’ll need it,” said Jason, a slight smirk appearing on his face. “I’ll get out of here before you actually make a gardener out of me.”

With not so much more to say, the boy wandered off back into his room, cursing himself as he realized he forgot to introduce himself to Maria - obviously she knew who he was, but that didn’t make it any less agonizing. He would often forget to greet strangers with his name because, to put it simply, he failed to realize they didn’t know it. His phycologist said it had something to do with the way he interprets social interactions, but to him, it was just another annoying thing he had to deal with.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, J.D took a sharp turn to the left and went into the dining room, taking a seat across the head of the table, where his father would for sure be seated. Once comfortable, the boy closed his eyes and let his imagination take over (creating stories about running away and being finally free - this time he was recruited by a secret organization to be a spy, not so original, he knows).

In reality, his wait only lasted 30 minutes, but he was restless enough that, once his dad finally arrived he couldn't help but grumble, irritated. 

“Took you long enough, what was it this time? Trying to blow me off?”

“Jason… You know I don’t appreciate that tone,” said Bud, disapprovingly. “And if you must know, I am still trying to solve this gas leak on my new work site. These things are tricky, you can’t just blow it up without putting other’s in danger, but you can’t just burn it nowadays because of some eco-friendly bullshit. Hey? Jason? Oh who am I kidding, you’re not listening anymore.”

And indeed he wasn’t, the last thing he wants is to listen to his dad’s number one priority, his work. Instead, he opted to play with his food, taking a bite ever so often (not that Jeff’s cooking wasn’t noteworthy, but he just hates eating with his father. It is always more enjoyable when he is alone). 

The dinner proceeded much like it always has, with any conversation started being quickly shut down by J.D, who made sure to leave as soon as he was done eating, opting for ‘going to bed earlier’. In all honesty, he knew his dad knew that was just an excuse, considering how much of an insomniac they both knew he was, but there was not much he could do about it, ever since his mom died any form of communication between the two seemed forced to the boy, robotic almost.

Without any other thing to do, however, Jason did lay in bed that night, only he didn’t get much sleep, instead wondering what shit-show was waiting for him at Westerburg High.

**********

September 1st, 1989.

Yeah, screw that. All that matters is that it’s 7 am, his dad is nowhere to be found and therefore he has to walk to a school he’s never been before, just what he needed. Of course he could take the bus, if he knew where it stopped or if his dad remembered to warn both him and the school that apparently he isn’t taking him to it every day, but clearly that is not more important than his fucking morning yoga class - which what the fuck, a shitty miserable little fucking yoga class is what got him to bounce this time, incredible. No really, it’s great! Fantastic! One a kind! Dad of the year! God, he might just kill someone today.

Taking a deep breath and still cursing under it, Jason decides to ditch the start of the school year in order to get a slushy in his safe heaven, seeing as his mood wouldn’t get any better without one. 

Arriving at the 7-Eleven, the boy decides to fix the store first, he starts his redecoration by taking the corn nuts and other obviously fan favourites and leaving them near the slushy machine (he was lucky enough that whoever designed this place put the machine across the room, furthest from the entrance - that way the buyer had to cruise the store to get his favorite thing and also be tempted by the power of slushies! And his dad said he didn’t know stuff). He found it funny that the cashier barely made an effort to stop him, most likely if he were to steal right now, the dude wouldn’t even bet an eye.

Taking a look at the store’s watch, J.D realises that the second period already started, so he fixes himself a slushy and leaves the store, drinking it as quickly as he can manage, in other to feel the sharp pain that starts at the center of his skull and ends at the base of his neck. Shaking his head it easy it, he spends the 30 minute walk to school polishing his excuse for his tardiness: Daddy dearest had to stop at his workplace to further resolve his working issues, and it took longer than expected (he knew his dad felt bad enough that, when they called to verify, he’d back him up).

Needless to say, he didn’t pay attention to the classes he did attend, almost thanking God for lunchtime. Entering the cafeteria, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh, no matter the place, it was always the same, clicks and ranks, dicks and bullies and, of course, victims. High School was a hormone induced micro-society filled with stupid teenagers, heartless bitches, and huge dickheads. No one was smart, no one survived unharmed and most importantly, no one was original where it counts, no one ever tried to change things - not that he was an optimist “let’s save the world” hippie, but at least he had the brains to not care about appearances.

Falling in line and grabbing a lunch tray, it doesn’t take long before he hears the sound of one being smacked behind him. Looking back, he sees that the victim of the hour is a girl who’s drowning on a scarf and has a grumpy look on her face, he has to admire her defiance when she mumbles a “huge dick” under her breath (even if she quickly takes it back - can’t win them all). 

As the girl’s friend joins her, he can’t help but overhear the conversation, taking care of his posture as to not give his espionage away, he’s a creep, but a discrete one.

“We still on for movie night?” asked the friend, which, how cute, they do that.

The reply came in a happy tone, “Yeah! You’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

“I rented ‘The Princess Bride’”

“Again? Don’t you have it memorized by now?” 

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a happy ending!” 

J.D shook his head, almost sad for the girl, she’d get crushed one day. As if to prove his point, that poor lunch tray got knocked to the ground once again, this time by a different jock - which is pathetic, seriously do they have to be so predictable and ridiculously cliche?

“Hey pick that up! Right now.”

Oh? Well, this is a development. Scarf girl apparently decided to grow a backbone, which obviously won’t end up well for her, but at least she is trying (not to mention this is A-grade entertainment for him).

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?”

Asks the jock, being quickly backed up buy dropout number two.

“My buddy Kurt just asked you a question.”

At this point, there are already a few curious eyes watching the scene, no doubt eager to tell some gossip. JD watches as the girl does a double take at her situation before deciding what to do.

“Yes, I am. I want to know what gives you the right to pick on my friend! You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant.”

Jason has to admit it was a smart reply, unfortunately, a little too smart for the occasion. Maybe if these guys didn’t have half a brain combined, the blow would stick, but as it is, they probably can’t even comprehend the concept of life after high school. They are the ones who are either abusive or suicidal in adulthood thanks to their miserable jock mentality.

“You have a zit right there.”

And of course he's right, dumb and dumber couldn’t possibly come up with something more articulate (not that it mattered, everyone laughed anyway - suck ups, weak links). The joke, however, was short-lived, as the cafeteria doors burst open, and tree color coded stereotypical mean girls walked in (it was not hard to guess, JD had met thousands like them before, he knew how they walked and talked and acted, just from one look), and effectively silenced the whole place. 

As they power walk in, the boy notices two things: One, he has seen the red-clad leader before - just yesterday - and two, he is indeed always right, that girl is most definitely not pleasant to be around. Doing what he does best, Jason decided to ignore the Royals and instead get lost in his own mind - at least there he can somewhat control things.

It was impossible, however, to ignore the newly formed musketeer alliance when he saw that scarf girl got turned into a Heather. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or exited, it would depend on how that chick handled the seer toxicity of popularity (he hoped she could hit Westerburg High where it hurt, but even if she had the spirit, the will might be lacking).

He’d wait, maybe all she needed was a little guidance.

**********

All it took was Martha Dunnstock for his entertainment to begin.

It had been three weeks, and J.D was starting to lose hope for scarf girl (Veronica, everyone knew her name now), she was more like a mascot than an actual Heather, why they kept her is seriously a mystery for the boy. All she did all day was keep her mouth shut, stare at their backs and be a guinea pig, Jason was seriously surprised with how quickly the fight was taken out of the girl - tree fucking weeks and she didn’t raise her voice once, truly pitiful (not that he could complain, Veronica’s swan dance was like a shield for every invisible loser, everyone was so curious as to how she pulled that trick off, that he could walk along the corridors of Westerburg High with absolute certainty that most people’s eyes were staring at someone else - at the moment she was being more envied then the Huge Bitch Major herself, an achievement if he’d say so himself). 

But as it turns out, Veronica is a very loyal friend, despite being a shitty one (even he knows you don’t leave naive people like Martha alone). 

It all started in the cafeteria, where he was casually hanging near the Heathers, hoping they would do something interesting for once, when scarf girl arrived with Green Screen (that is his nickname for Heather Duke, the most unoriginal of the tree), and of course, Chandler was planning something.

“Veronica. I need a forgery in Ram Sweeney’s handwriting,” ordered Heather, “You’ll need something to write on. Heather, bend over.”

If there was anything he respected about dynamite girl, was her ability to keep control. That girl knew how to humiliate and push buttons like the professional bitch she was, never letting anyone forget who was truly in charge. For example, forcing scarf girl to forge a letter that will hurt her former best friend? That was 100% a power move, a statement to Veronica herself, maybe even a test, something to see if she’s ready to be a true Heather (and not their charity project). 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for scarf girl to rip that note out of Ram’s hands and actually have the guts of talking back to Heather freaking Chandler, demon queen of Westerburg High. Now things were getting interesting.

“Martha’s had a thing for Ram for like, 12 years now. This could kill her.” 

And just when he thought she was about to get decapitated by the look on Chandler’s face, Veronica proffered the 6 words that put him in his current predicament.

“C’mon Heather, you’re bigger than this.”

And as he watched Huge Bitch Major’s face change from annoyance to sadness to pure rage, he understood, finally, the reason why Veronica was recruited. No, it was not for her forgery skills, but because the all mighty mythic bitch had a soft spot for her, cared for her opinion enough to go on a 10 minute rant about why she should stay a Heather, instead of just kicking her to curb for defying her as she’d do with anybody else.

And really, who could blame him then, for deciding they should be a couple.


	2. What the hell, Veronica Sawyer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, J.D gets to know Veronica little better, and his plan starts to move along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, guys! Another chapter for you.  
> I really appreciate the support I got, so thank you very much!

He knows it is stupid, he does, but that has never stopped him before. Not when he pretended to be possessed for an entire month in 6th grade, because Kelly Flair said he’d go to hell for not believing in God; not when he dressed up as a child bride for Halloween (against his father’s wishes but with his mom’s full support) because the most terrifying thing he’d seen that year was Jenna Duck’s sister’s wedding - she was only 15, merely one year older then him; not when he stole his father’s car to go visit his mother’s grave the very next year, her wedding dress he’d wore and a couple of flowers from his neighbour’s garden in hand; and he certainly wouldn’t let it stop him now, when he was so close to the first ever real good deed he’s ever done.

His plan was rather simple, exploit the weakness he’d found in Huge Bitch Major in order to transform her from “Demon Queen” into fucking Mother Teresa (it just so happened that said weakness was, well, a presumedly strong sexual attraction to scarf girl. He could deal with that, Heather Chandler being a lesbian was not the end of the world, maybe just a start of a new one). His main concern was Veronica, he had no idea where the girl’s head was at, and the less he knows the less he can influence the situation - that is why his current plan is to try and get a feel of Veronica’s view of the Heathers.

Feeling confident in his new plan, Jason Dean watched, perched on a table, as his target moved closer (still in shock after the Heathers left her alone to reflect upon her actions), and when he was sure she was within earshot he spoke, eyes glued on his Moby Dick copy, falsely reading it.

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to the swatch dogs and diet-coke-heads. They’re going to crush that girl.”

He had two main objectives here, not only did he need to understand Veronica, he also had to help her grow out of her lapdog act (if she is going to change Chandler into a bearable human being, she needed to speak up and act out), and he figured the easiest way to do that was to play into her savior complex - the bigger the guilt over her actions, the more likely it is she will try to fix them.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

She was offended, he could see that, and it took all he had not to smirk right there and then. Instead, he took his eyes out of the book and stared at the girl in front of him, he had her attention, time to make her listen.

“Clearly, you’ve got a soul. You just gotta work harder on keeping it clean. ‘We are all born marked for evil.’” 

Jason got up from his seat and started to walk away, pleased with himself. 

“Um, okay. Don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and then walk away, excuse me.”

He turned his head towards her, no longer hiding his grin. Veronica Sawyer was incredibly predictable (maybe that’s why Heather liked her, she’s easy to understand).

“I didn’t catch your name.”

Oh. Oh no, he forgot that scarf girl has absolutely no idea of who he is. This is bad, he can’t act like a moron now, after all of that teen angst drama he just pulled, it would defeat the whole purpose of acting so edgy in the first place! He needed an answer, fast.

“I didn’t throw it,” he said, mentally congratulating himself for the save.

Distancing himself from Veronica, J.D made his way to the cafeteria doors, fully intending on chilling in the bathroom for the rest of lunch, when an approaching voice called out for him.

“Hey, sweetheart! What did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?”

Kurt Kelly. What a shame, he really didn’t want to fight today.

“My buddy Kurt just asked you a question.”

And Ram Sweeney, who apparently only knows that sentence. Just his luck.

“Hey, Ram, doesn’t the cafeteria have a ‘no fags allowed’ rule?”

Well, here goes nothing.

“They seem to have an open-door policy for assholes, though.”

There’s a moment of silence, as thing one and two tried to process the fact that they have been insulted, and then…

“Hold his arms.”

It’s show time. 

**********

Jason Dean has had his fair share of fights, being the weird kid with the suicidal mom and psychopath attitude (not his words, in his opinion he was just misunderstood), but never in his life had he encountered two bullies with less skill then Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney. He left school that day with a week’s detention and nothing more, not a single bruise to even alarm the passing eye. 

J.D knew fights like that were necessary, were the only way to keep the bullying at bay. He remembers the day he learned that, it was all thanks to his father, surprisingly. They had just moved into New York, and he was having troubles adjusting to his new school (his mom had just died, his dad couldn’t even look him in the eye and every single teacher and school staff treated him like a wounded animal - he hated it), so of course he was picked as the guinea pig for bullies to play with. 

It didn’t take long before his dad got world of it, and it took even less time for him to be summoned in his father’s office after school, where he had set him down to talk.

“Jason, I want you to listen to me very carefully my boy. These people, they pray on weakness, they don’t hit you and humiliate you because it is fun, they do it cause they have something to prove. They want everybody to see how great they are, how much stronger and better they are, and so they poke fun at you, say shit about you, push you into lockers and threaten you in every way they can, up until the point where you just want to blow everything up, to see the empire they built come crashing down!” 

His father took a pause here, and J.D couldn't help but wonder if they were still talking about him. 

“What I want to say is,” his father continued, now much more composed. “You can’t let them see you as easy prey. Bullies, much like wild animals, won’t come after you if they think you’re too much trouble - especially if there’s someone weaker around. So next time they come looking for a fight, give them one. You’re coming home with bruises anyway, might as well throw some punches of your own and guarantee this is the last time it happens right?”

A part of him knew his mother wouldn’t approve this method, but at the time he was too angry at her for leaving to mind, so he listened to his dad, and got into a fight. He barely managed to land a hit, but it did the trick, he was left alone for the most part after that. Ever since then, J.D has been getting into brawls within his first week of school (he’s got quite good at it, even, but never to the point of winning - again, dumb and dumber are the shiny exception). 

Jason was woken up from his thoughts by the teacher announcing the end of detention, and the boy took a moment to stretch, before making his way into the town’s 7-Eleven (he should go home, but chances are, he’ll arrive before his dad anyway, so why not unwind a bit). 

It wasn’t long before he was sipping his slushy and chilling (pun intended) when he heard the signature screech that was Huge Bitch Major’s voice.

“Veronica! Don’t forget the corn nuts! It’s not a party without corn nuts!”

Well, so much for unwinding. Looks like he can’t catch a break today.

“Plain or BQ?”

“BQ!”

Chandler’s questionable food taste aside, those corn nuts were right by the slush machine, which was where he was currently at, which can only mean scarf girl is coming. Adjusting himself and looking around, J.D fixed a sly smile on his face before calling out to the girl.

“Greetings and salutations. You want a Slushy with that?”

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Big Gulp.”

Oh, this girl really needed guidance. A Big Gulp? Seriously?

“That’s like going to Micky D’s and ordering a salad. Slushy’s the signature dish of the house. Did you say cherry or lime?”

“I said Big Gulp. I’m Veronica, by the way. Are you ever gonna tell me your name?”

Cherry it is, fits her future girlfriend’s theme perfectly after all. 

“I’ll end the suspense,” he said while extending his hand. “Jason Dean, J.D, for short.”

The way Veronica looked at him was strange, like she wanted to figure him out. No one ever showed this much interest in him since his mom died, people just assumed they knew what was his problem was.

“So, J.D. That thing you pulled in the caf’ was pretty severe.”

Severe? Did she really believe a meek fight like that was severe? 

“Well, the extreme always seems to make an impression,” Jason said, hoping Veronica would take the hint. 

“So, what’s a Baudelaire-quoting, badass like you doing in Sherwood, Ohio?” 

Great, now she wants to get to know him. Usually he would do his best to scare this chick off, however, he put himself in predicted trouble. He needed Veronica to at least have a positive view of him if he wanted to be able to move his plan along, which means it’s time to buckle down and tell his tale - did he mention how stupid this was?

“My dad’s work. He owns a deconstruction company.”

“Deconstruction?”

“Well, the old man seems to enjoy tearing things down. You've seen the commercial? ‘My name’s Big Bud Dean, if it’s in the way, I’ll make your day.’”

“Then he pushes the plunger and the screen blows up?” She laughs, almost not believing it. “That’s your dad?”

“In all his semipsychotic glory.”

Ok so maybe he was projecting, he knows his dad is the most mentally stable person in the family, but Veronica will never meet his father anyway, so who cares.

“It must be rough, moving from place to place,” Veronica commented, with that damned pity in her eyes.

“Well, everybody’s life has got static. Is your life perfect?”

As if on cue, a loud car horn starts to blare, followed by more screeching.

“VERONICA!”

Scarf girl sakes her head, a sigh leaving her lips. They move outside, Jason giving his companion her Slushy.

“Definitely not. For example, I don’t really like my friends. It’s like they're people I work with, and our job is being popular and shit.”

Oh no. This is what he was so afraid of, Veronica being as charmed by the Heathers as he was. Now he will have to play the Devil’s advocate for the colored bitches, just what he wanted out of this high school experience (he means it, this is one of the most challenging runs he’s ever had).

“Well, I don’t really like your friends either. But I know nothing about them, so maybe your dislike tells more about you then it does about them.”

Veronica looks absolutely shellshocked, it is beautiful. “Are you insinuating the Heathers might be good people? Seriously?”

He can’t help but laugh, the girl seems to be personally offended by such thought. 

“Think about it. Most people think you’re just like them, and who’s to say you’re not? Maybe they hate their job as much as you, sweetheart.”

He looks over his shoulder at Chandler, who is at the edge of a nervous breakdown by watching them interact - jealousy is not a good look on her. He climbs his motorbike, starting it.

“See you around, Veronica Sawyer.”

He takes off before Huge Bitch Major decides to kill him for trespassing, his mind only half registering that scarf girl never really told him her full name - she was popular, so maybe it didn’t sound too creepy. Hopefully.

It doesn’t take long before he arrives at his temporary home, parking his vehicle and entering by the back door, just in case his father was already home. Unfortunately, avoiding his dad meant running into Maria, who seemed more displeased then his own father would be.

“The school called, they said you got into a fight.”

He does have the decency of looking apologetic, he and the head of staff had an amicable relationship. If he needed time alone or needed something, she would provide, and in return, he would pretend to listen to her stories (and if some of them were actually interesting, well, that’s just a bonus).

“Yeah. Didn’t think they’d call this place and not my dad.”

Maria shakes her head at his dismissal of the problem.

“It has been less than a month and you’re already in detention? I should’ve taken your warning more seriously, keeping you out of trouble won’t be easy.”

He chuckled at that, shrugging as he walks into his bedroom.

“Yeah well, thank you for the concern. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have an early night, so don’t worry about dinner.”

Closing the door, Jason let himself fall back into his bed. He was truly exhausted, it had been a long day full of situations where he had to actually talk to people, not his idea of fun.

It wasn’t long before he went to sleep (not a good one, but beggars aren’t choosers). His rest, however, didn’t last long. He was woken up by the sound of a certain someone invading his room, looking drunk, pissed, and wanting to…

Well, Fuck.

“Veronica? What are you doing in my room?”

“Shhhhh,” scarf girl pressed her index finger into J.D lips. “You see, mystery boy, Heather said I’m dead meat come Monday, so I thought I’d have a last meal on death row, y’know?”

She laughed at that, already trying to unbutton her shirt, while Jason… Well, he is really uncomfortable.

“Woah Woah Woah, Veronica have you lost your mind!? You don’t need sex right now you need, uh,” he paused for a moment, mumbling to himself. “What do drunk people need anyway? OH, WATER! Yes, you stay here ok? I’ll be back.”

Quickly exiting the room, the boy takes a moment to try and compose himself. This is crazy, the first time in forever that he decides to be civil with someone, and he’s turned into the target of a fucking drunk sexcapade! He can’t believe is this his life. 

Shaking his head, he grabs Veronica’s water as fast as possible, going back to his room to find scarf girl - in her underwear for fuck's sake - sitting in his bed, almost asleep.

“Uh, here. Drink it.”

He said, but the girl barely acknowledged the glass in front of her, instead looking up at him, a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“I never wanted this you know, maybe being left alone sure, but not this popularity, this fake smiles and all of this pretending. Gosh, I am so screwed, Heather will crucify me for the whole school to see!”

Oh no, she’s going to cry. No, there’s only so much he can deal with, and an emotional breakdown is not within that scope.

“Hey, ‘Ronica? How about you sleep? Maybe in the morning things will work out.”

His father was not wrong when he said people will believe in what they want to believe, because that statement does seem to calm the girl enough that she nods, looking at him again.

“Can we, uh, cuddle at least? I don’t feel like being alone.”

Fucking Hell. Fine, whatever, he can deal with this. “Uh, sure, Veronica.”

**********

This was a mistake, he can’t deal with scarf girl all over him like this. Fuck it, she is sleeping anyway, it has been half an hour of torture and that is enough. 

“Shit, Veronica. What did you drink that got you so crazy…”

Mumbling to himself, he slowly detaches the girl from him, sliding onto the carpeted floor, where he rushes to create a “bed” with spare pillows and blankets.

“Invades my home, and gets the bed. Mom was right, I suck at establishing boundaries.”

Sighing to himself, he decided to try and sleep. He can deal with this Veronica sized problem in the morning. 

He only hopes this doesn’t butcher his plans.


	3. Prairie Oysters and Gay Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, J.D gets into Veronica's head, and moves his plan along even further (obviously this involves a Bi disaster Veronica Sawyer, it's beautiful).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! It took me a hot minute - months - but I am back! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but if you want me to keep writing, just leave a comment! It really pushes me to keep going when I'm not in the best moods.

Jason Dean knew his back was busted even before he was fully awake, he could feel the sharp pain in his hip and the nauseating one on his neck, it was almost like his spine was screaming for help. Looking around he could see the scattered pillows on the floor, the empty bed beside him and the - oh, right. Empty bed, that’s what woke him up.

Walking towards his window, he could see Veronica slowly making her way across the yard, stumbling on her own feet, surprisingly decent for someone who drank so much the night before.

“You know,” he said, grabbing the girls attention, “usually people try to avoid walks of shame, especially when they didn’t even have sex the night before.”

“I know! I know ok? I just didn’t really want to have the ‘why did you assault me yesterday’ conversation and make things awkward!” Veronica sighed, making her way back to the room.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Jason asked, chuckling at the embarrassed face scarf girl was making, “I am just surprised you don’t have a hangover, tell me, is that one of Veronica Sawyer’s superpowers?”

As he predicted, the joke was a great way to put the girl at ease, as she smiled a little before shaking her head, “oh, believe me, the hangover is very much real. I guess I’m just that good of an actress.”

“Or you have a one-track mind,” he rebutted, "can’t feel the pain in your head if you’re too focused on avoiding the guy you jumped the night before, right?”

Laughing at his own joke, J.D helped the girl back into his room, giving her some clothes of his that she could use (side note, even with those she still decided to use her Heather approved blue vast).

“Oh, hm… Thank you J.D, you’re being way nicer about this then I thought - but to be fair I thought we would have sex last night so really what do I know?” Veronica mumbled, laughing nervously at her own (terrible) joke.

This. This moment is extremely crucial for his plan to work. He needs to be as precise as a surgeon with his words and effectively plant the seed of doubt that will eventually grow into the acceptance a romance with Heather Chandler - and of course that shouldn’t be too hard, he is a master manipulator, after all.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not the first time someone tries to use me as a scapegoat to their problems,” he saw her flinch at his joke, she better get used to it, her future girlfriend has similar remarks at the tip of her tongue, "but I will admit I was, well… Surprised that you did it.”

He said that with just enough pause and awkwardness to clue scarf girl in that there’s something he’s not telling her and, putting his actor skills to the test, he rubbed the back of his head and avoided eye contact with the girl, knowing he will get the reaction he wants (after all, Veronica is predictable).

“Why, do I look like a prude or something?” And there it is, the slightly offended and yet curious tone he always manages to get of off her.

“Well, no. It’s just that… I thought you preferred, er, the female company?” He said that in a questioning voice, faking a coyness he doesn’t feel, and, as if following a script, he continued his assault to Veronica Sawyer’s brain, pretending to be afraid of her reaction to his words, “it’s just that, I like to observe others and I always saw you looking at Heather and going along with everything, even when you morally opposed it so I thought… You know, that you liked her. I’m sorry!”

He’s not. In fact, he never even caught Veronica starring at Chandler as he claimed, and it wasn’t by lack of observation either, it just so happens that to scarf girl, the possibility of even finding Huge Bitch Major attractive was locked deep inside that head of hers, but luckily, J.D was there to open up all of those doors so Heather could slide right in.

And he can see the first one being opened right now, as Veronica processed what he just said, as her jaw dropped down and her eyes popped open.

“WHAT?” The freakout, he was waiting for it, “me liking Heather? _Heather Chandler_? The Demon Queen of Westerburg High? The mythic bitch that mistreats everyone and only cares for herself? Do you really think I have such bad taste? No wait, that’s not the problem! I am straight J.D, as in, I like guys. You must’ve been imagining things."

He almost laughs at how flustered the girl is, but he has a hole to play and a plan to put in practice, so he just nods his head and smiles at her apologetically.

“I’m sorry, then. Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with you liking girls, but since that’s not the case… I’ll get us breakfast,” he said, getting ready to leave the room, however, just before he does, he looked back, letting his mischievous grin finally shine through, “but Veronica… I never said which Heather I thought you liked.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, Jason Dean let out a full belly laugh.

 

**********

 

It took some convincing, but he managed to get the cook to bake them breakfast before his working hours, and as he was waiting the boy saw Maria coming in his direction, and he knew she knew about his surprise guest, after all, that woman ran the place with the eyes of a hawk and an iron fist (all masked behind that defenseless old lady facade, Jason admired her because of that).

“Before you say anything, nothing happened, she slept on the bed and I, on the ground.” He said is his signature bored tone, while the old lady crooked an eyebrow towards him.

“I know nothing happened, I would be surprised if it had. Because you see, I thought you preferred the male company.” She said, clearly mimicking the words Jason said just minutes earlier. “What are you up to, I don’t believe for a second you’re the shy type.”

J.D can’t help but feel a surge of affection for the lady, it’s been a while since someone paid enough attention to recognize when he was scheming or being deceptive. His mom used to be the only one able to do it, she was the only one who tried to understand the way he saw things, and after she died, the boy lost hope that he would find anyone who bothered with his craziness, so to see that Maria so easily caught on to his antics made him appreciate even more how smart that small woman was.

“Has no one told you it is rude to eavesdrop on private conversations?” He said, a tiny smiling making its way into his face. “Besides, it’s nothing. I’m just being a great wingman. Trust me, I’m 17, how could I possibly fuck this up?”

With that the boy left, breakfast in hands, making his way back to his room, where an anxious and overthinking Veronica Sawyer was waiting for him. It was poetical, almost, the way her hair was out of place, just like it had been before she joined the Heathers, a clear contrast to her perfectly straight blue vest. If J.D were a man of poetry (he is, he totally is), he’d say it was a perfect foreshadowing of what he intended to bring to Veronica’s - and Westerberg’s - life, a balanced chaos of freedom and stability (ok fine, he’s just trying to hook up scarf girl and Huge Bitch Major, but hey, the biggest changes start with the smallest actions).

Jason was snapped back into reality by the voice of the girl in his room, who, as soon as he opened the door, started to speak.

“I mean, you _were_ talking about Heather Chandler, right? ‘Cause like, McNamara is okay but a total airhead, and Duke is lacking too much personality to be my type. NOT that I have a type - I mean, a female type, because I don’t. Because I’m straight. But if I wasn’t, which you thought, there’s no way you’d think that I’d go for any of the Heathers if not Chandler, cause yeah she’s a bitch, but all of them kinda are, so that’s not a detriment, and I mean, all of the boys want to be with her, and hell, some of the girls want it too - again, I’m not one of them - after all she’s all wits for days and blonde curls all around, and - and, blueish greyish eyes that command respect and like, power is hot right? And she just screams power in those six-inch heels of hers so obviously she’s hot - and now I’m complimenting her! Fuck - Look, what I mean, is that there’s no way you’d think of anyone but Heather Chandler to be my girl crush of the week or whatever. But you were wrong, I don’t like her, I’m just explaining why I thought you were talking about her.”

‘So,’ J.D thought in his head, ‘McNamara is too dumb, Duke too dull, but Chandler is _just right_? God, Veronica, if I had any concerns about my plan before, you just washed them away.’ Chuckling to himself, he left the tray of food in front of scarf girl.

“Woah, don’t hurt your brain too much Sawyer. Whatever you say is what counts.” He said, all too sarcastic. “At any rate, all I want to know right now is what’s next in the incredible adventures of Veronica.”

Groaning, she replied, “Aside from eating this food right here? I guess I need to go over to Heather’s and beg for forgiveness. Maybe I’ll manage to live past Monday like that.”

“You mean, you’ll get down and beg for Heather?” He asked, a wicked grin on his face. And then there was a pillow hitting him.

“Jason Dean! I” hit. “ Am not,” hit. “In love with,” hit. “Heather fucking Chandler!”

“I never said anything about love. Just about, well, like you said, fucking Chandler.” A laugh of his and a hit of hers and they were moving on from that topic, Veronica talking about how she grew up with the Heathers (well, with everybody in Westerburg, really) and how different they were back in kindergarten, about how she was friends with Dunnstock and Duke, about how middle school hit them like a train wreck and the only ones who didn’t really change were her and Martha, 'at least it was like that, now it’s… Different’ was her solemn remark to her tale. After a while, and a fair share of his horror high school stories, the conversation died down, and scarf girl bid him goodbye, saying she was going to try and get back on Chandler’s good graces. He followed her, obviously.

 

**********

 

He doesn’t get very far.

It took about two blocks before Veronica called him out on following her, a proud ‘I am a high school girl. Of course I know how to sense danger from a mile away!’ as an explanation. She allowed him to tag along anyway, as backup in case Heather was particularly murderous after the party’s events - her words not his, he already knows Chandler won’t give up on her favorite pet (person?) just yet. On the way, she explained exactly what happened the night before, and here’s a short version of what J.D gathered:

At the start of the party everyone was shiny and perfect, then the shots came out, and everything went downhill from there. Veronica overdid it with the alcohol, saved Heather Duke from Ram stupid Sweeney, and then Martha Dunnstock showed up looking like a virgin sacrifice. There was a pinata at some point and scarf girl, filled with liquid courage, decided it was finally time to step up and save her childhood friend from social suicide. Needless to say, H.B.M - that’s Huge Bitch Major - was pissed beyond reason and a fight ensued where Veronica said she was done being a Heather and then Chandler, with her ego hurt since her crush didn’t like her back, said Veronica was dead come Monday, and then scarf girl also managed to puke on her and deliver the best line ever to be said by someone that drunk: ‘Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.’

And that was the reason a drunken madwoman version of Veronica Sawyer invaded his room looking for sex in the middle of the night. All thing’s considered, he’s not that mad anymore, that is one hell of a good story.

“So, why are we going to bow down to Huge Bitch Major? I said you shouldn’t do it.” He said, stopping in front of Chandler’s house,

“Huge Bitch Major?” She frowns at him. “Anyway, I had a nightmare where Heather basically stuffed me like a pinata - urg, I don’t want to hear about those ever again - so here we are.”

“But I thought you said you were done with Heather?” His smile at that is a little too knowing, after all, Veronica does seem to flock to Chandler like a moth to a flame.

“Yeah, and it was a sweet fantasy. A world without Heather, a world where everyone is free! But now it’s morning and I have to go kiss her aerobicized ass.”

“You do realize a world without Heather Chandler means a world where Heather Duke is in power right?” He pointed out, and the look of pure horror on her face told him she got the message. “Oh and, word of advice, when you’re doing the whole apologizing thing, play to her emotional side.”

Veronica looked at him like he just suggested vampires are real, and then, proceeded to laugh right at his face.

“Emotional side? Heather Chandler doesn’t _have_ an emotional side!”

“Yes she does,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her, “an easily manipulated, fragile, emotional side that she guards like it’s a national treasure. Just say something along the lines of ‘I protected Martha because she deserves better. Hell, even you deserve better’ and done-deal, you’ll reach Monday like Jesus, not dead but reborn.”

He can see the way Veronica’s eyes light up at the thought. Huh, maybe she is a freak like him too, who dabbles in teenage manipulation for fun and survival.

“That’s… Actually a good point J.D.” She smiled, then, and walked up to Chandler’s door, opened it, and waltzed right in.

“Heather?”

Silence.

“Maybe she’s not home?”

They go up the stairs.

“Trust me, she skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma’s even when she’s _not_ hungover,” she explained, before shouting Heather’s name again, and this time, they get a response.

“WHAT!?”

“It’s Veronica. I’m here to apologize.”

“Well, I hope you brought kneepads, bitch.” Heh, that’s a good one. “Fix me a prairie oyster and I’ll think about it.”

They go down again, Veronica muttering to herself.

“Prairie oyster… What’s in that? Raw egg, vinegar-”

He finished it for her.

“Worchester, hot sauce, salt, and pepper.”

“You know your hangover cures.”

“Yeah well, my dad taught me all kinds of stuff,” from picking fights to how to please a woman, he added in his head - and yes, that conversation was the worst of his life.

They make it to the kitchen, grabbing the stuff that they need, well, Veronica does, he’s just snooping around and silently judging every single culinary decision the Chandlers have ever made.

“Okay, here’s my revenge,” Veronica said, interrupting his train of thought. “I’ll drop a phlegm glob in her prairie oyster. She’ll never know!”

He looked at her unamused and replied, still looking around in the cabinets.

“What are you, five?” He finds a drain cleaner. “Y’know, I’m more of a ‘no rust build-up’ man myself.”

“Don’t be a dick, that stuff will kill her.”

“And you would just hate that, wouldn’t you?”

He smirked at her groan.

“When will you let that go?”

“After your freakout over it? Never! But you’re right, Heather Chandler is like a crime boss, better deal with her then with the chaos of her absence.”

“Preach,” she responded, finishing up the drink while he put everything back in place.

They were going back up the stairs when they heard the well-known screech of H.B.M.

“PRAIRIE OYSTER! CHOP-CHOP!”

“Jesus, is she always so impatient?” Jason said, and at Veronica’s look continued, “Why am I asking, of course she is.”

They make it to her room, which is, by the way, exactly like J.D thought it was. Well kept, high budget, and so fucking red.

“Morning, Heather.”

And there she was, Heather Chandler. Like a lioness in her den, looking feral and yet regal, even hangover. He had to give it to her, the woman knew how to inspire fear with a single look.

“Veronica, and Jesse James, quelle surprise,” she said, and if looks could kill J.D was sure he’d be the one drinking drain cleaner right now. “Well, let’s get to it. Beg.”

“Look,” Veronica started, clearly nervous, “we both said things we didn’t mean last night and-”

Heather interrupted her, her eyes clear as day and yet somehow still so obscure.

“I’d actually prefer if you did this on your knees. In front of your boy toy here.”

He wanted to laugh. She’ll see who’s the whipped toy soon enough.

“Yeah,” Veronica looked at him, he shrugged. “Anyhow, look, I’m really sorry.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Down.”

Scarf girl looked at him again (big mistake, he was smiling suggestively at her, and the flush of her cheeks told him she knew what he was thinking), before slowly getting on her knees, her eyes locked with Heather’s, and if J.D didn’t know better, he’d say they were about to fuck.

“Nice. But you’re still dead to me.”

Getting up from the floor, scarf girl dusted her blue vest before talking.

“Look, Heather, I…” She looked at him, “I…” Looked at Heather, “I…” At him.

“Yup, I’m out.” He said, turning on his heels and going to the door and closing it partially, obviously waiting outside, where he could eavesdrop on the conversation.

Inside, he could hear Veronica’s stressed sigh, before she started to speak again.

“I know we both here stressed and mildly drunk last night, and be being a lightweight did not help at all, and things escalated so quickly that we ended up doing and saying things we didn’t mean and-”

Interrupted, again.

“Did we? Gosh, Veronica, what are you, five? Are you going to make us shake hands and hug now? This is not kindergarten anymore, bitch.”

“Could you let me finish!? Fuck, Heather! Look I am sorry for puking on you and for defying you in front of the popular people or whatever, but I am not sorry for protecting Martha. It’s what I do for the people I care about, ok? She didn't deserve what she would've gotten and I… I would’ve done it for you, too, if needed. It’s just who I am.”

Silence. He moved closer to the door and looked inside.

Heather Chandler had her eyes locked on Veronica’s, and slowly she extended her hand to her, jaw clenched and eyes hard. It took scarf girl a hot second, but eventually, she moved, and they shook hands. It’s not a lot, in fact, it’s close to nothing, but J.D is smiling like he just won the lottery.

“You’re responsible for this week’s lunchtime poll. Fuck it up or pull another stunt like last night’s and no amount of ass-kissing will fucking save you. Now get the hell out of my room, I have better things to do then to mingle with you and the stalker over there.”

He snaps his head back. Damn, she’s good.

It doesn’t take long before he and Veronica are walking out of Chandler’s house, a sense of victory still warm in his heart.

“See? That went well,” he said, nudging her, “no murders due Monday.”

“Yeah, and thanks for the backup, by the way,” she scoffed, “‘Yup, I’m out’? Jerk!”

“What was I supposed to do? Third Wheel? Fuck no!”

That granted him a mean slap across the shoulder, he’s almost getting used to how aggressive scarf girl can be.

After that, they both went their own ways, Veronica home to deal with her parents, and him to the 7-Eleven to freeze his brain and think about the next step of his plan. The first thing he needs is for Veronica to acknowledge her feelings towards Chandler, that way they can start to work together and hopefully get Heather to admit her feelings too (which will be immensely more complicated thanks to how fragile that girl is), and boom! They'll date and fuck and do things people in love do and Huge Bitch Major will become a decent (-ish) person.

Now he just needs to wait.

 

**********

 

One week.

That’s how long it took for Veronica to storm into his room in the middle of the day (through the window, again - what a dreadful etiquette), and start talking a mile per minute.

“This is your fault! You stupid, jerk, idiotic - I did _NOT_ like Heather Chandler!! But then you said I was always looking at her, and then I started to! Suddenly, her skirts were _uncomfortably_ short, her red vest a _little too good_ on her, and when she looked at me with that raised eyebrow I completely forgot what I was saying, and - okay sure, I did have a crush on Betty Finn in 4th grade, but we were kids! It didn’t mean anything! And yeah, ok, maybe I was one of the first people to notice that Heather was, uh, _growing up_ , back in middle school, and I hated her ex-boyfriends on principle but - Oh fuck, this is a mess. I’m a mess. No, no, I'm fucked, that’s what I am. If Heather finds out she’ll make sure I wished I’d just accepted my social suicide when I had the chance!"

He wanted to laugh, Veronica was a mess, indeed.

“Woah, Woah. Hold your horses, are you saying what I think you are?”

She flopped down on his bed with a whine.

“I think I like her.”

Fuck. Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, it really helps me out.
> 
> Oh and! Follow me at am-a-yang-lets-fight, if you wanna talk Heathers or just have a good time ;D


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